Saturday, September 28, 2019

Something They Will Not Forget by Joshua Gibbs

Joshua Gibbs is my hero and my mentor teacher. He has never met me and has no idea I exist, but that doesn't stop me from referring to him as my mentor. When it was announced that he had written Something They Will Not Forget, I put in a pre-order and anxiously awaited its arrival. In typical Joshua Gibbs fashion, he blows away all the detritus that has gathered around teaching and reveals precious nuggets.

The book is basically an apologetic for his idea of a catechism. Well, a catechism is not exactly his idea, but an old one, resurrected and used to great benefit within a classical classroom. But in the process of making his argument, he first needs to demolish some strongholds.

He first tackles the teacher and student's natural aversion to subjectivity. He brilliantly points out that even the most objective question, "What date was the Divine Comedy written?" is still very subjective. The fact that the questions even exists is a subjective call on the part of the teacher. In fact, if we do it right as teachers, we will find that the "subjective" topics withstand the test of time far better than the seemingly objective ones will. The Pieta is beautiful. While that is subjective, it is true and defensible and will continue to be true for another millennia. Whether or not Pluto is a planet seems to change daily. Yet at one time, "List the 9 planets" seemed a perfectly reasonable objective question. A beautiful example is stated, "Seven hundred years later, the world still attends to Dante's Comedy, even though every page of the book is shot through with Dante's [false] geocentric beliefs." (p. 14) Often, the subjective things are the important things. Besides, the objective things are often forgotten and need to be looked up later anyways.

Which brings him to why and how we remember. After quizzing his students on what they remember from previous classes and being repeatedly disappointed with how little they remember, he tried to understand why it was that certain things stuck. When asking his students how they memorized the things they still recalled, "They answered this question one by one, all their answers began with the same two words: We all... Simply put, everything they remembered years later had been memorized as a group." (p. 26) He recognized a power in memorizing as a group, at a certain time and location. The students seemed to instinctively realize that the teacher had found something worthy enough of precious class time to devote the necessary minutes and hours to the recitation of a piece of text. "In fact, students do not learn what the teacher tests on, they learn what he lavishes his minutes and hours on." (p. 27)

Joshua Gibbs' idea of a catechism is to start each class period with a set of questions and answers recited by the whole class which covers all the most important material for the year. This 5-7 minute exercise involves reciting from primary sources in answer to universal and virtue-inducing questions. The benefits are manifold. As for time, Gibbs reminds us that the first few minutes of class are usually a waste anyways. But beyond that, the catechism shifts the student's mind and puts him in a place where he is ready to discuss the big ideas and read hard texts. The rest of the class becomes a continuation of the catechism. New material is being introduced that relates to and is informed by the material already quoted in recitation.

To the skeptic, he states,
Those teachers who are most happy with [the catechism], and most convinced of its worth, have not tried to skimp on the time they commit to daily recitations. On the other hand, those who report only mild success say they use a catechism "once a week," or that their own catechisms are much shorter than the kind I recommend. So, too, some readers of this book may be tempted to write a three-minute catechism for their own classes to save time; however, it is unlikely the short catechism will reference all the significant material from the curriculum. Neither is the short catechism all that imposing, and students will not be inclined to respect something quick and perfunctory. The shorter the catechism, the less of an accomplishment it is. (p. 34)
Describing its most impactful benefit, Gibbs says,
While the recitation of a catechism involves speaking, it is paradoxical speaking, for it is also silence—a slowly accruing silence. Pagans repeat their prayers because their gods have thick skulls, and Christians repeat their prayers because they have thick skulls. Pagans believe they will be heard for their many words, but Christians believe they themselves will hear for their many words—and they will hear because they are silent, but God is speaking through them. Repetition clears the path from distractions. (p. 40)
I have found this to be true in my own classroom. The catechism clears the mind of the distractions of the hallway and the other students. It "cleanses the pallet" so to speak.

Moving on to the Classical Curriculum, Gibbs turns the spotlight on me, specifically. He states that "Classical" is not a curriculum, although we'd like to think it's that easy. Rather than present something that has stood the test of time as an ego-gratifying exercise, we need to be careful to put the author in the position of authority. It is not me and it is certainly not the student. Never read something deep and meaningful and ask, "What do you think?" It gives the students an authority over the text he has not earned. The catechism helps establish the authority set down by the author by quoting an author in his own words as the the answer to some moral important question.

Steps for writing a catechism:
1. Foundational Questions: Gibbs begins all of his catechisms with these seven questions:

  1. Gentlemen, what are you?
  2. Ladies, what are you?
  3. What does it mean to rule yourself?
  4. Who has made you kings and queens?
  5. What is bondage to decay?
  6. What does it mean to be human?
  7. Why should we seek virtue?

These questions literally set the foundation for why we are doing education at all.
Then he moves onto questions with answers answered by the content of the class. But even these should have some distance between the question and the answer. Ideally, a catechism question will ask a moral question like, "What do we believe?" rather than, "What is the Nicene Creed?"

2. Curriculum Condensed: Gibbs calls us to use those parts from the texts we will study to
"convey a strong moral vision, not merely a summary of content. It is a catechism, after all, and not a survey. If the catechism would prove inoffensive to men who embrace falsehood and preach deception, then the catechism is worthless...The catechism is a preparation for life, a preparation for the Judgment, not a preparation for the SAT." (p. 72) 
3. Presentation: When the teacher first presents the idea of a catechism, he may have to first own up to the system's failure to inculcate true and resilient knowledge. Ask the students what they remember from the "cram and spit it out" days, and then compare that to things they truly remember. What is the difference. Apologize for wasting their time asking them to memorize things everyone know will be forgotten in a few weeks.
"The institution of the catechism ought to come as a relief to everyone, then, and the teacher should express this relief when moving students from a system which wastes everyone's time to a system wherein canonized texts are memorized for life. If some kind of joy, liberty, and emancipation does not accompany the institution of the catechism, the teacher does not know what the catechism really is." (p. 75)

Finally, Gibbs summarizes up his apologetic for a catechism with the following:
For a moment, imagine the classical school where all classes began with a catechism. Consider the staggering volume of the canon which might be memorized before graduation. Imagine commencement ceremonies where the graduates could recite great literature and Scripture for an hour before receiving their diplomas. Imagine the weight of all that glory." (p. 117)